The Inn, if you could really call it that, was far more crowded than I would have expected. Relative to the outpost, I would have thought it much sparser than the almost-mob that resided within. Their collective presence gave the Inn a vague, musty smell while making it noticeably hotter inside than it needed to be. I slipped onto a stool before the counter where Felicity had led me. Out of my peripheral, I caught more than one pair of eyes staring my way. Turning a glance, I saw nothing. The gawkers had better reflexes than I expected for some middle-of-nowhere outpost rabble. I scowled their direction before returning my gaze forward to a clear beverage I hadn't asked for. I shot Felicity an inquiring glance just a half-moment before she spoke to me directly.

"We'll need an idea of how we fight to get out of this alive. That sword is all? Do you know any unarmed combat?"
I nodded at the first inquiry, then shrugged at the second. If the images sketched upon the poster were at all accurate, one would assume being unarmed would be little good even as a last resort. Unless she was a martial artist in one of the more esoteric disciplines. She looked strong, but I wasn't certain if she was on the level of breaking bricks with her fists. I wasn't. Not even close. I've put men to sleep with a firm enough strike, but a brick would be doing the breaking were I ever to strike. I doubted 'World Eaters' and 'Faceless' were hard as brick, but something told me my fists wouldn't be much more than a tickle to them.

I nearly began to sign something before I remembered the pen and paper. I held up a finger to indicate that I needed a moment and began to down the water I had been offered. My waterskin had run dry this morning, and even at room temperature water was refreshing on days like this. I let the cup clack loudly onto the wood before dragging the parchment toward myself and scribbling on the paper. I stopped writing my first sentence halfway through and scratched it out. I was more deliberate with my second attempt.

I slid the paper in front of her slowly. 'I manage well enough with just the sword,' I had written. Soulcatcher was an old blade, long wrung dry of its oldest enchantments, but it had yet to fail me.